Page 128 of Loud Unspoken Memories

He moved into my rental a week after Charlie asked him to read him a book. And for the past month, Dallas has effectively stepped into the role of father. Though he works at the winery most days, he sometimes drops Charlie off at preschool. He takes him to the park. And he’s teaching him how to play baseball, convinced we’ll be raising the next breakout star of the New York Nighthawks.

I set the cake in front of Dallas and hand him a lighter.

Charlie knows the drill. He’s sat through many birthdays like this in his four years. For the grandma and grandpa he never knew, the sister he can’t really remember, and a father he only had for three short years.

This one is different however, and even if Asher and Bug lived closer, they still wouldn’t be here. This one is just for us.

With misty eyes, Dallas lights the candle on the cake. “Happy birthday, Phoebe.”

“Happy birthday,” I repeat, as does Charlie.

There’s a photo of Phoebe across the table. Next to it is the vase she made, filled with her favorite flowers. In the picture, she looks young and vibrant, and she’s resting a hand on her pregnant belly. I know it’s one of his favorites.

Out of respect to me, Dallas doesn’t display photos of her on our walls. He keeps them in a special drawer in the room that has become his office. I don’t begrudge him that. He had awhole other life before Charlie and me. One that deserves to be remembered, recognized, and revered.

Dallas has opened up about her to me more and more over the past four months. But today… today I get to hear about everything. How old she was when her family moved to Calloway Creek. How she finally gave in and agreed to date him when they were seventeen. How she loved being pregnant and swore they would have a dozen kids.

As the three of us eat cake and Charlie and I patiently listen to Dallas recall every happy memory, I realize there’s no jealousy. No bitterness toward a past he still holds dear. No resentment over the woman who had his heart for more than half his life.

Later, after Charlie is in bed and I’m cleaning up, I pick up the photo of Phoebe. “You must have been one heck of a woman to deserve the love of a man like him.”

Arms wrap around me from behind. “How in the hell did I get so lucky to have not one, but two amazing, selfless women in my life?”

In bed that night, we lay close and hold hands. But we don’t make love. And that’s okay. This is Phoebe’s day, not mine. I get him the other three hundred and sixty-four days a year.

And that’s enough.

Epilogue

Martina

Two years later

“Way to go, Charlie!” Dallas yells from the stands as Charlie crosses home plate. He turns to me, his smile huge and full of pride. “What have I been telling you? That kid is going to play in the MLB one day.”

I roll my eyes at the way he thinks Charlie walks on water. It goes both ways, though. Charlie loves him like a father.

“Dad!” he calls from the dugout. “Did you get a picture?”

“Better,” Dallas assures him. “Video.”

Charlie gets high-fives from his teammates, loving every second.

I marvel over the fact that Dallas has never missed any of Charlie’s sporting events. And it still warms my heart every time I hear Charlie call him Dad. I try to keep Charles’s memory alive as often as possible. Charlie knows he was loved fiercely by him. My ex is who he resembles. But Dallas is the man who will raise him.

That was made official a year ago when I walked down the aisle on a beach in Antigua and Dallas became Charlie’s stepfather.

Understandably, Dallas didn’t want our wedding to be at the winery. He already had one wedding there. And I didn’t want to take away from those memories. So we settled on a destination wedding and flew all of our friends and family down for a week’s vacation before we said our vows. Chris and Sarah flew back with Charlie in tow while we spent the second week there on our honeymoon.

“Damn, I love that kid.” Dallas turns, looks me straight in the eyes and says, “I’m ready.”

I glance at the scoreboard. We’re winning by a landslide, and although Charlie probably won’t be up to bat again, there’s still one inning left. “Ready for what? The game’s not even over.”

He nods to the dugout. “I’m ready for another one of those.” He rests a hand on my tummy.

His unexpected declaration robs me of my breath. It’s not something we’ve ever talked about. Not even when my doctor suggested I start using a diaphragm instead of the pill due to hormonal issues I was having.

I’ve always had the desire for more children. But even more importantly, I wanted Dallas Montana. I made the decision long ago that if he couldn’t ever bring himself to have a child with me, so be it. I’ve never pressured him. Never even hinted at it. It had to be his choice. But he knows me better than anyone ever has. We didn’t have to have a conversation for him to know my thoughts.

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